“Okay.” I nod, though I regret that as soon as she turns away from me to tell the judge I’ll be replacing Emma in the lineup.
I’d rather go first, just to get it out of the way, but it’s too late. There’s sweat on my palms that keeps reappearing no matter how much chalk I layer on, and I have to keep moving, my whole body vibrating with tension at what I have to go out and do.
I pace up and down the well between the stands and the competition floor, back and forth, hands on my hips, head down and eyes trained on the neon green carpet that lines the entire arena.
Five full floor routines before my turn.
Don’t watch, Audrey, just visualize, every step, every tumble, every turn, every leap. There’s no controlling what’s happening out there now; just focus and go when it’s time.
Except I’m not supposed to be here. I was never supposed to compete on floor in team finals. This was where Chelsea and Dani and Emma were going to bring home the gold and I was going to cheer them on, having done my part. I jog in place to try to get warm.
I send Emma, sitting in her seat, still not responding to the world around her, one final look before I turn and make my way to the raised podium. The final floor routine of the Olympic team final.
“You got this, Rey,” Dani says as we pass each other on the stairs.
“Do the thing, Rey!” Chelsea calls from behind us.
“Now on floor for the United States of America, Audrey Lee!” the announcer calls, and the crowd lets out a confused murmur.
I shake my head, removing all the self-doubt, all the tension, everything else. The world narrows to me and the floor. I don’t know if the arena is actually quiet or not, but I can hear my own inhale and exhale before the warning beep, and then my music begins.
I dance, doing my best to make sure every flicker of my fingers and point of my toe is taken in by the judges. I can’t outscore Chelsea or Dani. I don’t even know what I need. I have to stick everything, every pass, every turn, every leap. I have to be perfect, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, nothing—no matter how hard you try or how much you deserve it—is ever perfect.
I land my final pass and my feet shuffle, an inch, maybe two. I raise my hands and salute to the judges, and I wave to the crowd because my parents and Leo are in there somewhere.
I walk down the stairs, still catching my breath, no idea if it was enough, no idea where we stand.
Dani and Chelsea are waiting for me. Emma is sitting in a chair near the floor, her head in her hands.
“Come on,” I say, leading them to Emma. I grab her hand and tug, sliding my arm over her shoulders as she stands. Her eyes are red and watery, her body shaking with what has to be regret.
I lean in, and they lean with me, arms around one another. “Girls, no matter what happens, it’s been an honor,” I murmur within our huddle. “I love you all. You’re my sisters, and I am so, so proud of you.”
We break from the circle, but I keep Emma’s hand in mine. Janet stands at her other side, an arm around her shoulders. Dani takes my free hand and then finds Chelsea’s with her other. I lift my gaze to the board again.
My score is up. A 14.0. That’s pretty good, at least for me. Then the board flashes to the team totals.
1.Russian Federation
177.1
